A pyjama, bloody, party. Has Patrick been watching YouTube or something? But alright, he's actually good, considering he's taken this on. Their room with Art had loads of beer and pillows, creating a vibe. And of course, loads of cigarettes and blocked vents, so no soul would find out what's about to go down in here.

And now you're all curled up, sipping beer and staring with half-asleep eyes at a rom-com on Patrick's phone. Art lazily played with your hair, taking a swig from a beer bottle – it was the third, by the way... Patrick sprawled over both of you, puffing on a joint, leaving sweet smoke in the room.

He whined. “Bored. So bloody bored.” Patrick shot up, as if just waking up, snatched the bottle from your hands, twirling it around. “Let's play spin the bottle, eh?” Art raised an eyebrow, backing away towards the wall. One day he'll rip something precious off.

Even Art looked relatively drunk, rosy cheeks and shining eyes. Patrick, however, was buzzing with the idea like a seven-grader, spinning the bottle between you all, poking Donaldson in the shoulder.